Potter's Wheel
by JoMarchWrites
Summary: Wheels turn, they make other things and people move, they give support. In one eventful night, a turning cog (spun by a once-lost Godfather) changes everything, but will those changes be for the better, or should well-enough have been left alone? (Set post Book 7 minus the epilogue. Harmony!)
1. Potter's Wheel 1

_**My version of their lives after the war are vastly different from Madam Rowling's. Story begins not long after the fifth anniversary of the war. Hogwarts has been rebuilt And Re staffed, and many of the pieces have been picked up and put back together. All except one.**_

_**Harry Potter and the related characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. No malicious intent or ill will is meant by using those characters and events in this fictional work.**_

It had been a long day, an even longer night. There weren't many dark wizards roaming around, but the few that were drove the aurors absolutely mad.

The one he'd been after, for weeks now, had left few clues and always seemed just out of reach.

Tonight, though, he'd caught him. After sending a few owls to ensure the cell at Azkaban was secluded and secure, he'd grabbed a drink at The Leaky Cauldron, stopped to pick up freshly cut lilies, then made his way home. He muttered a soft "alohomora" and stepped into the modestly lavish living room.

He kicked the door closed, then set the post and wrapped lilies on the coffee table. Weary, he turned his attention to the manic chirping coming from behind him.

"Hedwig," he chuckled. "Sorry." He flipped the latch up on the silver cage and reached in to scratch the snowy owl's head lovingly. "Go on," he whispered.

Hedwig gave him a lovingly annoyed nip and then flew out of her cage, making her way to the window that seemed to open all on its own.

He watched her fly, disappearing into the night sky, and he sighed with a smile.

"You're home," a soft voice hit his ears and he turned toward it with an even broader smile. His arms wrapped around her, her feet left the ground, and their lips met as he swung her round and moaned against their kiss.

"I've missed you," she muttered as her head rested against his. "I sent you two owls and even tried to..."

"Mione," he sighed, his bespectacled eyes closing, "I was...I captured… and it was rather difficult for me to..."

"I know, Harry," she told him, both her hands coming to his face. "That's why I needed to talk to you. To be there. See if...if you needed me."

"I always need you," he retuned, planting another kiss on her forehead. "I brought you..."

"Lilies," she finished with a grin. She nodded at the mantle, where the flowers were now settled in a crystal vase. She winked at him, her wandless and wordless magic having stunned him. She gave him a soft kiss again, and then peered over his shoulder toward the portrait of his parents hanging on the far wall of the living room. She smiled as she caught sight of Lily and James Potter wrapped in a heated kiss.

"We're like them, you know," he whispered, well aware of what she was seeing. "And we always will be."

She turned her attention back to him, blinking sweetly, and kissed him again. "Always," she whispered, her nose rubbing against hers just a bit.

When he sighed and closed his heavy eyes, though, she knew the subject she'd been avoiding had to be broached.

"How...how was he?" she asked quietly. "Were the rest of them angry with you?"

"With me?" He pulled away from her, and he walked toward the cherry wood cabinet across the room, holding onto her hand as long as possible before he was too far out of reach. "No. Not me. Him? Bloody furious at him." He gave a small scoff as he poured a glowing green liquid from a crystal bottle into a short, pewter glass. "First time I'd ever seen Arthur Weasley agree with a Malfoy."

"You don't mean..." she stopped, unable to finish the thought, let alone speak it aloud.

He nodded, then brought the potion to his lips and downed it with one hard swallow. "Sentencing vote was unanimous. Draco sat right beside Arthur, their hands went up...as if they'd rehearsed it...same speed and same firmness." He turned, licking his lips and letting the burn of the drink settle into his throat. "He's heading to Azkaban. Tonight."

Hermione ran to him and grabbed his face, her large, innocent eyes boring into his. "Don't you dare think it, Harry!" She was yelling in a whisper, willing him to listen to her. "None of this was your fault. Ron...handled things...badly."

"We all did," he gruffed, pulling her soft hands from his stubble-coated cheeks. " 'Mione," he said, shaking his head, "That night...everything changed. I realized..."

"We both did..."

"That I could stand to lose more than just my life, I had lost so much already, but you...you were the one thing...when I said I had something to fight for..."

"I know..."

"I meant you!" he yelled, his voice cracking with upset and anger. "I didn't care about Ginny or Ron's feelings, I didn't care how hurt they'd be! Damn it, when I got back to that hall, in the rubble and the remains, the only thing I wanted was..."

"I kissed you back, didn't I?" she finally said loud enough to stop his rambling. "Harry, you weren't acting alone, I wanted you, too. Everything I thought I was feeling for Ron...I realized after the smoke cleared...I had been feeling it all so much more for you." She moved to him. She took his hands, and she gave him her best know-it-all smirk. "I never imagined the famous Harry Potter would want to be with a frizzy-haired bookworm like me, so I convinced myself to settle for his trusty sidekick."

He laughed. "Trusty my arse," he chortled, his arms winding around her waist. He planted a kiss on the end of her nose. "Ginny forgave us straight away, she knew all along...well, she was all part of Dumbledore's plan, anyway. But Ron...I never thought..."

"Ron," she interrupted, "Showed us his true colors before it was too late, is all. And he was brought to justice, by the greatest auror since Mad-Eye Moody." She kissed him gently. "I suppose...they want you to escort him to Azkaban?"

Harry shook his head. "On the contrary, my love," he kissed her lips. "They forbid me to leave the house. Don't want any of his cohorts coming after me. I'm to stay right here, with you, all night." He sighed."They also don't want me hearing anything he says before they close the cell on him."

She looked at him blankly, then smiled. "You didn't."

"I didn't," he told her earnestly. "George did." He winked at her. "Gave his little brother a sad and bitter hug goodbye and dropped a Blabberbug in his pocket." He pulled a small, round, marble out of his pocket. "We'll hear it all."

Hermione picked the bauble up with two fingers and held it up to the light. The small speaker inside began to glow and vibrate, and she knew the bewitched beetle was beginning its sneaky job of eavesdropping on the owner of the striped jumper pocket in which it was nestled. "This," she said, "is not going to be easy."

Harry sighed in agreement and kissed her once more before leading her back to the sofa. He watched as she placed the marble on the table and tapped it with her wand, which she'd just pulled from her sleeve. The volume began to crescendo and the couple cuddled as the details of their best friend's betrayal filtered through the air.

_**There is much more to this tale. Reviews are appreciated. Thank you for reading.**_

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


	2. Potter's Wheel 2

_**Harry Potter and the related characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. No malicious intent or ill will is meant by using those characters and events in this fictional work.**_

"Professor," a small, yet panicked voice called. "Is it true? They've caught the man who tried to kill..."

"Yes," Hermione sighed, holding up a hand. "Please, don't finish that sentence, Malfoy." She opened her eyes and blinked at the Slytherin girl, who looked more and more like her Uncle Draco every day. "Maleficent, it's true, he's in Azkaban. Now, I know your uncle was worried so thank you for..."

"Grandmother was scared for him, too, Professor," the small white-haired child blinked her deep green eyes at Hermione. "I was, too. For what it's worth, we're all glad Harry's safe now."

Hermione smiled as she nodded at the girl, then patted her gently on the shoulder and sent her on her way. She tilted her head, recalling a time when the Malfoys counted down the minutes until something awful happened to Harry Potter. She snapped out of her reminiscing and looked down the hall, catching Draco Malfoy's eye. She sent up a small wave toward the Potions master, then headed back into her classroom. She exhaled heavily as she sat behind her large oak desk. It was cluttered, she knew, littered with books and bits of parchment, spilled ink, broken and tattered quills, and aging photographs in shiny frames.

She caught sight of one, the three youths with arms linked, their eyes sparking with childhood innocence and curiosity. Three heads poking out of one window on the old Hogwarts express, and as she stared at the laughing, happy faces and waving arms, she realized that, even then, Harry looked at her with more love in his eyes than anyone ever had. She chuckled to herself as she raised the frame, the fingertips of her right hand stroking across the moving images. "How little you knew then," she mumbled to the clueless children.

"How little we know now," a voice from the doorway called.

She dropped the photograph back down to its place in the corner of her desk, and she nodded agreeably as she started in on attempting to organize the chaos before her. "True," she offered, whipping out her wand and muttering an incantation. Every piece of rubbish and useless object swirled up into the air and flew in perfect V-formation toward the bin in the back of the room. "How are you, Draco?" she asked, finally facing the slick drawl of Professor Malfoy.

He shrugged, his angular shoulders almost meeting his rather pointed ears. "Not every day you have to be a part of something so..." he trailed off, unsure of how to best explain."Is Harry..."

"All right?" Hermione scoffed. "He'll never admit to anything to the contrary." She flicked her wand again, this time commanding all of the scattered books to right themselves and march single-file toward the bookcases and alphabetize themselves. "I'm in no mood to talk about it. There've been a lot of tears and a lot of yelling and I'm done now, so, onward and upward as they say." She smoothed out her mauve-colored dress and cleared her throat again. "Was there something you needed, or..."

"A favor, actually." Draco moved toward her, spinning around the same silver frame she'd been conversing with. He waved a hand and the image changed to Harry and Hermione, in dress robes, beside a grinning Draco, their glasses raised in celebration as confetti and stars fell around them. "Forget."

Hermione laughed bitterly. "How can I?" she asked rhetorically. "Mal..." she raised an eyebrow, remembering where they were. "Professor," she corrected, "Did you ever, for a single moment, believe that you and Harry would consider yourselves brothers when we grew up? After the hell you put us all through, how you almost killed..."

"No," he interrupted, unwilling to remember having almost lost his soul. "Not once."

Hermione nodded. "That's exactly it. I never imagined I'd be without either of them. Of course, then, I'd thought I'd have to settle for Ron whilst Harry ran off and did famous things, but I always knew I'd have them both. When that changes so suddenly...so violently...how do you just...forget?"

"Dumbledore made you forget a lot of things," Draco said with an air of guilt. "I could...if it would be easier..."

Hermione cut him off, shocked he would even offer such a thing. "Dumbledore manipulated all of us, once upon a time, and my life would have been greatly different if he hadn't. Now that I remember it all, I can't...I can't imagine forgetting any of it." She shook her head slowly. "Even if it hurts now, Draco, it's part of me and it's making me..."

"It was just a suggestion," Malfoy broke in, resting one comforting hand on her left shoulder. "I know I can't stand you looking so hurt, being so wounded, and I can only imagine what Harry must be dealing with on his own, as well as knowing what this is doing to you." He narrowed his eyes and the malice of the young bully she once knew surfaced. "Forgive me for wanting to make it all go away for you. I swear, if it were up to me, Weasley would not have to worry about anything in Azkaban killing him."

"Draco," Hermione sighed, taking his hand off of her shoulder but holding it for a moment. "That means a great deal, you know it does." She tried to smile at him, but there were unshed tears in her eyes. "It will take time to fully understand, but I will, and I..."

"Am I interrupting something?" Harry walked into the room, a questioning look on his face.

Hermione patted Malfoy's hand. "He wanted to confound me," she told her husband. "So I wouldn't..."

"Ah," Harry nodded, understanding. "Thanks, mate, but you know she likes to keep her head unmeddled with." He shook his friends hand and slapped his shoulder. "We'll be alright."

"Just letting you know," Malfoy said, turning to face the door. "I will be here to make sure of that. Always." He gave them a serious expression, then said, "I'll leave you two alone." He walked out, not turning back, and closed the door behind him.

"If I wasn't so sure I was totally conscious, I'd think I was still lying in that forest dreaming all of this," Harry bemused, staring at the closed door.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his chest. She inhaled deeply, then moaned softly, exhaling a contented sigh. "I love you," she said, her eyes turning upward. They met his, deep emerald and sparkling at her. "You know, don't you?"

"Mione," he whispered, kissing her forehead, "I've always known." He cupped her face and straightened her up, then placed a hot kiss on her lips. "Luna sends her love."

"Oh?" Hermione's face brightened. "How is she?"

Harry laughed. "Getting bigger by the minute." He looped an arm around her shoulders, then grabbed her briefcase. He turned them round and led them toward the door. "She says Neville's being more of a worrier than usual and he nearly splinched himself trying to put the bassinet together. He kept apparating home with the wrong bits and bobs and having to go back to Malfongo's shoppe."

Hermione laughed and looked at Harry. "Promise me that when..."

"A wave of the wand, love," he assured her. "No taking chances for us." He gripped her tight and kissed her forehead. "Hold on," he said softly.

They both felt the discomfort of the hard and rough tug about the middle that came with apparating, and they immediately checked each other for lost limbs or misplaced parts when they arrived home. Once she was sure he was whole and correctly assembled, she gave him a hard thwap in the head.

"What the bloody-hell was that for, woman?" he gasped, rubbing the side of his skull.

"You're not supposed to apparate in or out of Hogwarts!" she scolded. "Goodness knows you're the only wizard alive who can, but still, the rules apply to..."

"Don't get huffy with me," he teased, pulling her back against him. He gave her a cocky grin and said, proudly, "Rules do not apply to the Potters, darling." He swayed her in his arms as he watched her roll her eyes. "I think that's quite obvious, don't you?"

"Oh, honestly," she breathed, but she knew he was right. He'd broken every wizarding guideline the ministry had, including using the Deathly Hallows to bring his owl back to life. "It wasn't a human resurrection," he'd argued, and that had somehow made it okay. He thought about it, watching the snowy beauty ruffle and preen her feathers in her gilded cage. Harry had broken the Elder wand and thrown it over a cliff immediately after the war had finally ended, but the next morning, it was fully repaired and laying upright against the lamp on his bedside table. He'd tried to destroy it on several occasions in the days following, but it always seemed to repair itself and find its way back to him. After a while, he stopped trying to dispose of it and kept it in a trunk with the stone and his cloak.

Exactly two weeks after the war, though. Harry had laid out the Hollows on his bed and had told Hermione he felt as though they were telling him to do something. To do something...wrong.

Hedwig had come home cooing that very same night.

Hermione had scolded him, cried for him, certain he'd be brought up on charges, but the whole of the Ministry had looked the other way. Shacklebolt himself had said he didn't blame Harry, and then gave written permission for him to use his new powers however he'd see fit. Clearly, though, there were limits. It was part of the reason Ron had grown so angry with Harry.

"You can bring back your bloody bird but my brother is still rotting in a grave!" Ron's words still rang in their ears,and she was hearing them loudly at this moment.

"Mione?" Harry said, prodding her with a kiss. "Where'd you go?"

Reeling from the memories, she blinked and smiled. "Just thinking." She kissed him, and something in his kiss calmed her, filled her head with serenity, made her feel light, strong. "You always do that," she whispered, pulling away from him. She nuzzled his nose, kissed his chin, and pressed her lips again to his.

"Only fair," he snarked, nipping at her bottom lip. "If you could feel what I feel when you work your magic, you'd fly over the moon and back." He pressed her into the wall, moaning only once as he kissed her with more fervor. Heat radiated from them so ferociously that the windows in the living room flew open to keep it from stifling them. He didn't say a word, didn't even wave his hand, and her dress unzipped and pooled around her feet. Her heels and stockings vanished. She was naked against him. He gripped her skin, the tips of his fingers clutching the roundness of her ass as he lifted and pulled her away from the wall.

"Harry, we..." she began to protest, but he wouldn't hear it. He threw her onto the couch and made a dismissive motion with his hand, disrobing himself instantly. He crawled over her and without hesitation, bent his head. He heard her gasp, then moan. He felt her thighs tighten on either side of his head and her nails rake through his hair as he licked, bit, suckled, and devoured her like a starving animal.

She was lost, feeling nothing but love and tremendous pleasure coursing through her, and she rambled almost unintelligibly, begging him to make her scream, and he granted her wish.

He pulled her clit into his mouth, sucking hard and eagerly, both hands on her body holding her down as she threatened to levitate off the couch. He chuckled, still lapping at her, as she calmed, then, licking his own lips, he slid up the curves of her body and nestled himself between her legs. He peered down at her, grinning like a House Elf that'd just been given a hat.

"Pleased?" she questioned, breathless.

He nodded. "Greatly," he said, then without warning, he thrust forward, slamming into her and making her cry his name. He was pleased, and proud, and it gave his usually modest ego a boost knowing he was the only wizard in the world who could reduce the brains of the cleverest witch in history to a puddle of pudding. He moved, hard and fast, then slow and deep, alternating between ravaging and revering. He could never decide between needing to take her in the most primal of ways and paying close and delicate attention to every cell in her body, so he always did both. He blamed it on the part of him, long ago destroyed, that drew him to the darker side of things.

"Harry," she moaned, scratching her nails down his back. She linked her ankles as she wrapped around him and her eyes screwed shut as she cried, "Oh, heavens, Harry." Her thoughts were a jumble of unladylike swears and romantic notions, changing back and forth as he switched his plan of attack. She felt it build, deep and low, and as he continued to pound and kiss and rock and bite, it grew and climbed and bubbled, until finally it poured out of her like an overflowing cauldron.

"Christ, 'Mione," he said twixt gritted teeth. He had fistfuls of her curly hair clenched in his hands as he worked to slam into her as she choked around him. "So beautiful, so amazing," he whispered, finally allowing his head to fall, his mouth to drop open, and the ragged shuddering breaths of blessed release to escape. When he stilled, he kissed her slowly. He loosened his grip on her tendrils and softly stroked her face and neck.

"My God," he smiled.

She blinked, her long amber-colored lashes fluttering as she stared up at him. "Hmmm," she agreed with a weak nod. "You."

"No," he returned. "You. All you. Only you. Always."

She held out a limp hand and snapped her still-trembling fingers. The warm, woolen, hand-knitted blanket that McGonagall had given them as an engagement gift unfolded itself from the back of the sofa and bundled them up. She pulled him down to her, wrapping her hands around his neck. "Always," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, silently casting an acoustic charm, allowing him to hear her heartbeat loud and clear. He listened, letting the rhythm and comfort almost lull him to sleep, but something struck him as odd. He popped up and looked down, then back at her. "Mione!" he said, wide-eyed.

"What?" she asked him, startled and looking just as concerned as him.

"I think you might be..."

A flash of intensely blue flame erupted in the living room before he could finish his thought. The smoke blurred their vision and filled their lungs. Simultaneously, they threw hands up, calling their wands, and cast several protection and healing charms. Hermione magicked them some clothing, and Harry yelled an extinguishing charm along with a loud, "Stupefy!"

The flames vanished all at once, and lying still and confused on their living room rug was a disheveled looking man.

Harry shot to his feet, stepped protectively in front of Hermione, and aimed his wand, a "Sectumsempra" ready and waiting on his tongue. He eyed the intruder sternly, taking a good long look at him. His thick, black beard concealed a filthy face, and his piercing blue eyes peeked up at them in fear and apology.

Panting, the man raised one hand in defense, while the other kept him from sinking into the floorboards. "Harry, don't...please..." he begged, trying to push himself to his feet.

Harry furrowed his brow. He lowered his wand slowly, but kept firm his position in front of Hermione. He tilted his head, wondering how, if at all possible, it was truly happening. "Sirius?" Harry questioned, disbelieving.

The weary man nodded then collapsed back to the floor, the shiny time-turner around his neck glinting in the light's reflection as he landed.

_**Reviews and feedback are much appreciated. Thank you for reading.**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	3. Potter's Wheel 3

_**Harry Potter and the related characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. No malicious intent or ill will is meant by using those characters and events in this fictional work.**_

Huddled together on the couch, Harry and Hermione stared at the disheveled and downtrodden looking man, now up off the floor and sitting on a chair.

"I'm so bloody confused," Harry said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. His fingertip grazed the scar on his forehead that hadn't hurt in almost five years. "How...why..."

"I should have tried to find you sooner," Sirius said with downcast eyes, holding the steaming mug of warm, calming tea Hermione had conjured up for him. "I didn't know how many times to turn that bloody thing. It's secondhand, bought it at Borgin and Burkes so heaven knows it probably holds a thousand curses."

Hermione shuddered. "Fitting, isn't it?" she said with a sly but sad smile. "The very thing that saved your life the first time seemed to save it again."

"How?" Harry asked once again. "I was there...I saw you...I saw Bellatrix..."

"It wasn't me, Harry," Sirius confessed with a sigh. "Dumbledore..."

"Of course," Harry snapped, huffing. "It's always his doing." He gritted his teeth and gave a hard sigh. "Go on."

Sirius, taking a shaky breath, nodded once and said, "He had it all planned out, and he summoned me to his office that morning. We were discussing our strategy; he gave me a glass of pumpkin juice. It was laced with a powerful sleeping draught and I was out in moments. He hid me away, and he convinced one of the house elves to drink a modified Polyjuice Potion...my hair as a tasteful garnish, mind you...said that, in return, he'd be given clothes and set free."

"An elf?" Hermione yelped. "After everything I'd done...SPEW...the protests...it all meant nothing?"

Harry gave his wife a quick and soft kiss. "No offense, love, but it never really meant much to anyone, darling." He ducked, avoiding her swatting hand, and he chuckled. "It does now, but, honey, back then we all thought the elves were perfectly happy there."

Sirius laughed at their playful banter, but then his face found gloom again. "Anyway," he said, "By the time I came around, it was all over. Done. I finally blasted my way out of the keeping cell...but I knew I couldn't be seen, now. I knew, whatever his reasons, that he must've thought it was in your best interest. I know, now, Harry, that the man only set you up to fail. To be hurt."

"Don't we all," Hermione muttered.

"I transformed," Sirius continued. "Made my ways as a stray for a while, followed a young Muggle boy home from school one day and stayed with his family as a pet when I needed shelter and...it was nice to have companionship," he admitted with a sentimental smile. "It took me so long to find a way back into London, into Diagon Alley. Almost five years. I summoned up the strength to run away from that sweet child and his family, and in the cloak of night, I broke into Borgin and Burke's. I looked for something...anything that would help me set things right."

"You found that," Harry scoffed, pointing at the silver bauble around his godfather's neck. "Fat lot of good it did you."

"Harry, please," Sirius trembled. "I used it to go back to the night of the war. I saw you two kiss for the first time, I even managed to say a painful goodbye to Lupin, and to Tonks." His bottom lip shook beneath his fuzzy mustache. "I was too late to save them, but I saw their souls." He looked up, hopeful. "How is Teddy?"

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand, smiling at the mention of his own godson. "Happy. At Hogwarts. Gryffindor."

"Of course, he is," Sirius chuckled. "I...I saw you two...behind the smoke and the flame...your first kiss. I saw Ron...fuming like the piles of wood and stone, walk away from you. And when I'd overheard where you two'd plan to run off to, I headed you off. I ran to Grimmauld Place, let myself in, and I waited until I stopped shaking long enough to turn this damned thing again, hoping it would lead me here. Now."

"You couldn't have just used the door, though?" Harry joked, scratching his head. "If you'd burst into flames about five minutes sooner, you'd wish you were still in that dungeon."

Sirius laughed heartily. Hermione blushed profusely. Harry wondered what he said that was so funny, he'd been quite serious.

"No, I..." Sirius struggled to find the right way to explain. "I made some pit stops. I went to your wedding, Harry, and I know Lupin, Tonks...even your parents were there. I saw their paintings lining the hall. I watched your mother cry, and your father beam at you, and I noticed the empty frame." He took a hard breath and added, "Now you know why you couldn't get my..."

"You were alive," Harry nodded. "But you were there. That's what...matters."

Sirius nodded. "I also stopped off to see Hermione finish at Hogwarts, your first...and last...Quidditch game as a Chudley Cannon, and I even spent a few moments watching Hermione teach her Muggle Studies class on first day."

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "That was just last month!"

Sirius nodded. "That's how I knew I was getting closer." He looked at Harry. "I never missed a moment of your life, Harry. Not really. As I've told you before, the ones that love us..."

"Never really leave us," Harry finished. He took a breath and calmed his nerves, and he looked over at Hermione before facing Sirius again. "Well, then, what happens now?"

"Now," Sirius said with a troubled look in his eyes, "I tell you the problem." He gulped down the rest of his tea, immediately feeling the relaxing effects of the spell mixed within. "In my eagerness, I turned the dial a few too many times. I went too far out, and I saw..." he blinked and he held the weight of the world on his shoulders as he looked into Harry's eyes. "Ron Weasley knows how to hold a grudge. Harry, my boy, he intends to make sure your son knows just exactly what sort of childhood you, yourself, had."

Harry gave a tilt of his head as he tried to discern the meaning in Sirius' words. "What d'you mean?" he mumbled, his heart racing.

"I think," Hermione said slowly, "It means Ron's going to try to kill our son. Well, when we have one, he will, knowing we will step in just as your parents did. He's going to try to kill us."

Sirius nodded, but then looked at Harry and Hermione, his once dead eyes full of life and passion. "Mark my words, Harry, I will not let that happen. The past is fixable, the future...well, that's entirely preventable."

_**Please, feel welcome to review. Thanks for reading.**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	4. Potter's Wheel 4

_**Harry Potter and the related characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. No malicious intent or ill will is meant by using those characters and events in this fictional work.**_

"Don't, Harry," Hermione whispered, sitting up in bed, one hand draped over Harry's shoulder. She squeezed, looking from the back of her husband's neck to the rusted time-turner in his hands. "Don't even think it."

"We could…" he swallowed hard. "We could change everything."

"Exactly," Hermione said, her tone somewhere between harsh and horrified. "Things happened for a reason, Harry. You know bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time. Why d'y'think Sirius didn't go back farther and save everyone himself?"

Harry turned to Hermione. "We could have…all that time…we did it once, we could have…"

"Harry," Hermione cupped his worried face in her hands. "We saved a man who wasn't dead yet. And a hippogriff that was being wrongfully…"

"My parents didn't deserve to die!" he yelled. "Tonks, Lupin, Dobby, and Fred. If Fred was still alive…"

The only way to stop his babbling was to kiss him, and so she did. Fiercely. When she felt his ragged breathing return to a slow normalcy, she pulled away and pressed her head to his. "Harry," she whispered. "Stop blaming yourself. Things happen, they make us who we are, and we are stronger for it." She kissed him again and the power of it knocked Harry backward onto the mattress. She straddled him and kissed him deeper, claiming him. Pulling back again, she nuzzled him. "None of this is your fault."

"Mione," he muttered, his arms wrapping around the divots of her hips, "I can't…"

She gripped his hands tightly, pulling them off of her and raising them over his head. "Stop," she warned, looking into his eyes. "You wouldn't be who you are…and I wouldn't love you so much. We had to fight, together, survive everything we've done. Dumbledore may have been a manipulative arse, but look where it's lead us."

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and gazed up at her. He tried to move beneath her but she must have been using a strengthening charm to keep her hold on him firm. He stilled, then said, "I would give anything to have been able to love you this much…take you to the Yule Ball instead of Parvati…snog in the hallway between classes…do some things that would have gotten us both expelled, underneath my cloak of, course."

"Harry," she laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Could you imagine, love?" he continued, grinning. "You and I, hidden in plain sight, figuring out where all the bits and bobs go…on Snape's desk? Or right there in the Great Hall, during the final Sorting? Or on the Quidditch Pitch during a Slytherin practice?"

"Goodness, Harry," she said, still laughing, but blushing. "We know…now, we remember…we did our fair share of sneaking 'round."

"I think…I think that's what got to Ron most, you know?" he said, sighing. He squirmed beneath her, using his legs to push up the hem of her nightdress. "The fact that, even after Dumbledore used memory charms and fancy potions, when they all wore off we still couldn't keep our hands off of each other." He smirked at her. "That despite everything, it was always me you really wanted."

"Damn right," she said with a nod, and when she bent her head to kiss him, he bucked up his hips, entering her fast, hitting the ends of her. She cried out into his mouth, nipped his tongue, and responded with her own swaying hips, as if trying to take him deeper.

They found a rhythm, losing full awareness of their surroundings as they only focused on each other. So much so, that they didn't turn their heads when the bedroom door creaked open and a big, black, shaggy dog padded in. With one paw covering its eyes, it bent its head and gently grabbed the fallen time-turner in its teeth. With a wagging tail and a slight smile, the dog scurried right back out of the room.

One thing about dogs: they have incredible, almost magical, hearing.

**_Reviews are welcome and appreciated._**

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


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